Harry Potter Gives You a False Expectation of Train Compartments
by Frostfoot-Dreamleaf
Summary: Clarke finds out her boyfriend is living a secret life and engaged days before they were supposed to take a train to star their lives in California. Bellamy's plans are cancelled that weekend. A totally wild and out of left-field proposal is made. Inspired by the song 'Cups' from Pitch Perfect.


**So I went to see Perfect Pitch 2 a bit ago and then heard that wildly popular song 'CUPS' once again, and after listening to the lyrics thought it might be a perfect prompt for a Bellarke modern spin. It's pretty long for a one-shot; 15,000 words. Hope you enjoy! I really focused on time and message/information update things like phones or Facebook to tell the story and move the plot along. Just something new, I liked it a ton!**

* * *

 _Wednesday, 1:32 pm (Facebook)_

 **Bellamy Blake:** Cancelled all my plans this weekend, cleared my schedule to spend time with my sister only to be informed she's 'busy'. This sucks. Going to be a long weekend...anyone doing anything?

 _4:01 pm_

Clarke found his second Facebook page by chance; and what she would much later call a divine intervention. She'd added a person she'd met through a slight meeting on Facebook, only because they asked her. She wouldn't usually have gone out of her way to find the singular person she'd had a five-second conversation with at a very awkward party of a person she worked with, much less recalled anything but an unfortunately large nose on their face. Yet, she must have made a very good impression for this person had taken the time to track her down and ask her to be a 'friend' and Clarke couldn't resist.

She wondered if they had any other mutual friends?

This was how Clarke came to find it; scrolling through the nameless and faceless people of this person's page when she noticed a strikingly and uncomfortably familiar face a third of the way to the bottom.

Her boyfriend's name was Fisher Abernathy. This guy's name was Finn Collins.

So it had to be impossible, she figured, that in the state of New York existed two people that looked exactly the same because she was damn sure Fisher was an only child.

One look at the face in the tiny square on the left of the webpage made her stomach churn; one of his names was a lie. Fisher and Finn were the exact same person. More upsetting, there was a girl he had thrown his arm around in his profile picture that looked more than a little behind overly-friendly.

"Cousins?" Clarke whispered out loud, weakly, pained. It very well could be; they had the same silky black hair, same brooding dark eyes, similar white-toothed smiles that stretched from ear to ear. If she just closed the page, deleted her history, and forgot she ever came across this Finn Collins, perhaps she could convince herself this was true.

Yet Clarke was better than that.

She scrolled to find his status of dating.

Engaged to Raven Reyes.

Clarke stared at it for the longest time, uncomprehending. She clicked on the blue name of the girl, and it brought her to another page, this time with just the girl in the profile picture, but unmistakably the same girl.

That's perhaps when it all hit Clarke...she was the other woman. She, who gained the title of 'Miss Goody-Two-Shoes' when she graduated high school in the yearbook, could be breaking up a soon-to-be marriage. Lord, she felt awful, even if she only just found out.

She closed her laptop for a very long time, bile rising in her throat and eyes burning with tears.

 _6:22 pm (Text)_

 **Message sent from Clarke to (recently changed) Big Fucking Asshole:** Consider us done, 'Finn Collins'

It freed her, sending the message, but as soon as she did, the worst feeling in the world rose up her body. She looked at her suitcase, already packed, sitting by the door anxiously. She looked at the boxes almost completely filled and duct-taped, she looked at her sleeping bag she'd begun using last night as her bed, and she wondered how and why and seriously?

She'd thought Fish-Finn's hesitance to move across the country with her was merely the dislike of change. It was understandable, he'd grown up here his whole life. But now it was painfully clear it was because he had another woman here that he was tied to much more deeply.

And was he ever going to tell her? They were leaving in two days, goddamit! Or supposed to be leaving. She imagined it playing out now, he'd just never show up to the platform. Leave her wondering, getting on that train forever, why? At least now she knew. And she had to be grateful for the recently added friend; without her, she'd never have known.

It still brought her back to her original problem though. She'd paid for the tickets in an effort to sway him to be more comfortable, and now she might be out of that money. A quick search online for the company's website stated that all cancellations less than a week before intended leave date would result in a loss of that money.

She called Finn's number, ready to demand he pay her (it was the freaking least he could do, wasn't it?) but found the line disconnected.

She called the service number for the train. She wasn't sure what she was going to say, but she was going to do something about this.

After half-an-hour of waiting, and making a very strong martini for herself in the meantime, she was connected to a person.

"Hi, so...I see you can't get refunds for trips less than a week before I leave?" Clarke began, flopping down on some couch cushions missing the couch (currently in storage), leaning against the wall.

"That's right, when are you leaving?" The person asked. Clarke bit her lip, trying to keep back tears.

"Friday..." She whispered, "I mean, can I get any money back?" She asked, ranking her fingers through her hair.

"I'm sorry, by this point, that's too late." The person sounded truly sympathetic. A person all the way who knows behind a computer screen dealing with people like her that have already read the website and knew the answer.

"Oh, well..." Clarke sighed, and felt her words gush out, "I mean, that sucks. It really sucks, you know? I guess you don't- but my second ticket was for my ex-boyfriend who I just found out today has a different name and is getting married in a month. Don't think I was ever going to know, and now I'm down a traveling part and the fare." She shook her head angrily, even thought the person couldn't see her.

There was a pregnant pause.

"Well..." The worker's reply was hesitant, almost soft.

"Yes?" Clarke straightened, clearing her head, zoning in on her words.

"We don't do this anymore, but it was never written out of the books or the computer systems. If you can find someone to switch out for this guy by midnight, I mean, at least you wouldn't be alone. Maybe they'll even pay for you."

Clarke looked at the clock. Five hours until midnight by this point.

"I can do that." She said confidently, nodding. She had plenty of friends.

"Okay. When you call back, ask for my name- Jan, and I'll fix it for you. I really am sorry." She finished awkwardly, and Clarke shrugged, making a small grunt.

"Wasn't your poor choice in men." Clarke reminded herself dejectedly, and hung up.

Immediately, Clarke went through her head with people she could take. She treid Wells first, even though she was pretty sure he had work this weekend (He did). Next was Octavia-even though she was half-way across the country, but even hopping on mid-trip would have been totally worth it, but she was apparently going away on a wild weekend adventure with her new boyfriend Lincoln, but promised to punch 'Fisher' the next time she was in the Big Apple. In the next couple hours, Clarke called almost everyone she could think of. People from high school. Her mother. That one person that had led her to the friend that led her to Finn. She even went as far as to call her ex-girlfriend Lexa, and found herself a bit relieved when she said she was busy, but at that point, she would have been glad for the company all the same. It was useless, but then again, who at this age just randomly had a free schedule for the weekend when asked two days before it?

No one, apparently.

Clarke logged back into Facebook, angrily wanting to look at his real profile picture again, because she was clearly in a self-destruct mood, but the first post at the top of the page. She clasp her hands together, resting them almost to her nose, leaning forward to nearly touch the screen with her nose.

Bellamy Blake needed something to do this weekend. How utterly convenient.

She finished off her martini, and then took a shot of tequila just for good measure, and stalked across the hall of her apartment to the numbered door right across from hers.

 _10:38 pm_

Someone was knocking on his door at ten. It wasn't Miller, he'd checked- his best friend was currently on the grave-yard shift at his job, otherwise they'd probably be drinking and watching sports right now, like they used to during the week.

He really hoped it was Octavia with a really good apology for promising this weekend she'd be free and then dropping the ball on him, yet again, for a new and equally scary looking boyfriend as all the others she'd had. As if she could magically appear at his doorstep all the way from North Dakota. Bellamy still hoped.

"But this one I can feel is true, true love, Bell." She'd told him over the phone. He'd been too upset to even respond to that, and had angrily slammed his phone down. It wasn't so much that her flakiness upset him, he knew it, but it was more he'd turned down the chance to go on his high-school's yearly trip as a chaperone to Rome for this, because Octavia had planning it for almost a year. To think, he could be wandering through the forum right now, staring at the colosseum, taking selfies next to incredible statues...it infuriated him.

So he was really quite surprised, although he should have been so much, when Clarke Griffin was the person behind the knocking.

"Lock yourself out again?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That was one time." Clarke snapped, rolling her eyes, "And you should probably give me that key back now." She added, holding out her hand.

"Why? Got a new beau you need to give it to?" He asked, and her flinch was visible and concerning to Bellamy. But instead of explaining it, she scowled deeper, holding out her palm impatiently.

"You just won't have a need for it anymore." She said vaguely, and Bellamy cautiously retrieved the second-key she'd been given from his key rack. Once she had it, he expected her to turn around and leave, but instead, she fidgeted awkwardly in his doorway.

"I actually am here with a proposition for you." She began, nearly dropping the key in her nervousness.

"Uh..." Bellamy felt his body shut down for a second, "I get sex to make you forget but-,"

"No!" Clarke's face turned red, "Not sex...no." She shook her head, and Bellamy relaxed a bit, "I saw on Facebook you have nothing to do this weekend."

Bellamy really could not predict where this was heading. A thousand different ideas flashed through his mind, most of them sexy still, but he tried to keep himself out of the gutter. It wasn't working. Clarke had always been pretty.

"Well, here it is. I'm going on a train on Friday, takes just about the whole weekend, and I'm suddenly without a partner. If I can find someone to switch it out for by midnight, I don't loose anything. If not, then I loose the money I spent on it. I mean, I just don't want to be alone the whole time either. I'm even willing to pay for a plane ticket back here, since it was one-way originally."

"Who was the ticket originally for?" That was about all Bellamy could think about from her whole speech.

Her jaw tightened, and twitched. "Never mind that. It's not important."

Bellamy may have been wrong, but he was almost sure she'd been dating a guy named Fisher. He pretended to have gotten a message, covertly looking on Facebook, but found her relationship status empty. He scrutinized her; had he been imagining it? Was it a bad break-up? Mutual break-up?

"I even have whisky, I don't know if that will sway you." Clarke added suddenly, and Bellamy blinked back at her.

"That's a lot to consider," He thought about, chewing his lip, "Especially since I don't...we aren't..." He stopped before digging himself into a hole, "Can I have time to think?"

Clarke checked her watch.

"Well, you have to give me an answer by midnight. Or I guess if you don't, I know." She shrugged, "You know where to find me if you decide, or just Facebook me with your info and all." She waved nonchalantly, turning around, "I'll let you consider it."

As soon as she was gone, one thought from her whole 'proposition' popped into his brain.

One-way.

Was Clarke...moving?

The signs had been there, and perhaps he just hadn't wanted to see it. He had noticed she'd been bringing empty brown cardboard boxes into the apartment and then taking them back out, sealed and heavy-looking. He'd told himself it was spring-cleaning...in February. Or she was being conscious about how many things she owned, that whole 'cleanse of body and life' he'd heard some people talk about, mostly female co-workers. She had been working crazy hours the past couple days, he thought she was just trying to save some cash. Most likely her job squeezing out the best of her they could before she went (he was sure she was a wonderful employee).

Suddenly, the place where her second key had been seemed so much emptier.

It wasn't only that she was an ideal neighbor, because she certainty was. She never threw loud obnoxious parties, he doubted she'd ever broken any rules or done something illegal and likely wasn't about to start with her apartment, and she was considerate of everyone in the building, like how she baked Christmas cookies and put them in front of everyone's doors on Christmas Eve last year. It was so much more than that...Clarke was...frankly, she was a bright ray of sunshine in an otherwise musty and loud building.

She never seemed afraid to talk to people on the elevator. She seemed genuinely interested in Bellamy's job everyday, not just faux interest to keep an otherwise awkward ride bearable. Like seriously wanted to know about his life and such; which, let's be honest, the only other people excited about a teacher's life was another teacher. She rarely talked about herself, but never shyed away if he asked her. She waved to everyone, and knew the names of basically everyone in the building...Bellamy maybe knew three people other than Clarke. She also seemed to know what the did, their kids, where their favorite bagel shop was, it was the odd intimate things like that he was always surprised about.

And being neighbors at the end of the building, right across the hall from each other, they were enclosed in their own little world, not much like they spent a ton of time together. There was the aforementioned time she got locked out, simply locked out (not like in her towel or something like pornos always showed) and that's when she decided to give him her second key, because before last month, their schedules were pretty similar.

They'd both shared a couple take-out meals, sitting in the halls of the building and talking after either of them had a particularly hard day, and Bellamy did wish it happened more often. He once asked her for a cup of sugar (cliched, right?) when he was trying to make cake for his mom, and almost burned the complex down, so Clarke stepped in and saved it.

Other than that...?

Bellamy swiped his phone from the table.

 _10:50 pm (Text)_

 **Message sent from Bellamy to Miller:** Dude, Clarke just asked me on a weekend train ride with her. I think she's moving...should I say yes?

Less than a minute later, his phone vibrated. Shouldn't Miller be working? He'd sent that less as an actual question, more as a way to keep himself grounded. Yet he was quite interested to see his friend's answer.

 _10:51 (Text)_

 **Message sent from Miller to Bellamy:** Uhh, the hot blonde from across the hall? That one? Because if so, what are you doing texting me for?

Bellamy gave a slight smirk and a chuckle at the text, and opened his phone's FB app.

At the apartment, Clarke paced around for a bit, and took another shot. Had she seriously just asked Bellamy on a weekend trip with her? What if he took it the wrong way? What if he was a real jerk outside of what they had here (Doubtful, he was a freshman History teacher, and you had to have some sense of a liking for children to do that, something not even Clarke had)? What if this all just blew up in her face?

Her laptop dinged, signaling she'd gotten a message on Facebook. She paced another circle before checking. He replied; that was good, right? Or was he too nice of a guy to let her down without ever answering her, and this was really bad he'd decided so quickly?

 _10:53 (Facebook Message)_

 **Bellamy:** Hey, so, I guess I'm in...nothing much else to do this weekend. Where are we going, exactly, that might be nice to know. Here's all the rest of my information, by the way, just reply if you need anything else.

Clarke almost laughed and cried at the same time. She'd never even told him where they were going, she realized in agreement. But he'd said yes, and now she wasn't going to be alone with the awful thoughts of her cheating ex-boyfriend. As she called back the company, she balanced the phone between her ear and shoulder so she could type back.

 **Clarke:** California! Sorry I never said anything. Trip takes about 3 and half a day, by the way.

 **Bellamy:** Nearly 4 days? I just checked, usually it only takes about a three. What should I pack?

 **Clarke:** I choose a longer train-ride...the 'scenic views' it was called. Thought it sounded cool. We might be looping up around the USA. Stopping at the occasional sight-seeing place. Not sure, thought. I already bought you a plane ticket back Tuesday. Thank god for extended school weekends, right? Unfortunate about the leak, but better for me. Uhh, bring clothes (obvious, I hope) and stuff to do...books and stuff. I don't know if I could keep you occupied for four whole days.

As soon as she sent the message she was acutely aware of how sexual her last sentence sounded, but dismissed the thought as soon as she was connected to Jan and scrolled back up to read off Bellamy's information to her. She also realized that she'd rambled a ton, and that he hadn't actually told her about the leak and closing (she'd read it in the papers), and hoped it wouldn't seem weird she knew it.

The switch was done without a hitch, much to her relief. By the time she was done, there was a new message from Bellamy, and it was nearly midnight.

 **Bellamy:** Guess I'm up for anything, better than sitting here until school is re-opened.

 **Clarke:** Awesome! :) We leave on Friday at around 4:30. See you then!

Bellamy didn't answer her, but he was already going on this trip with her, so Clarke wasn't upset. Besides, she was pretty tired.

All of Thursday and Friday morning she didn't see him. Her life was busy, trying to tie up loose ends at work as well as gather all her things to be put in storage until her mother could drive down what she hadn't labeled as a necessary item to live with. They had texted each other, though, at the end of Thursday to agree to meet in the hall at 3:30 to give them enough time to grab at taxi and drive there. She was perfectly on time, and just as she had already guessed, he opened his door five minutes late.

"Geeze, Princess. Are you bringing everything but the kitchen sink to Cali?" He questioned, looking at her large suitcase, her larger than average sized 'carry on', and her huge purse slung over her back, plus a pillow tied to the top of her suitcase.

"Well," Clarke felt her cheeks flush, "Try squishing your whole life into the allotted weight for the train compartments. It's not easy, so you have to get creative." She defended.

"You're not from around here, how'd you get it all here the first time around?" He asked, recalling she'd arrived about a year ago, nearly down to the same day (a day earlier) than he had.

"My mom and I drove. But she's tied up in her job, and I can do it myself for now, you know? I'm an adult now."

"You weren't before?" Bellamy raised an eyebrow, "You were what, 26?"

"Yeah," Clarke seemed slightly surprised he knew, "But I'm much more of an adult now." She said simply, and it was left at that.

They took their taxi, arrived, checked in, and got to the platform all with ten minutes to spare before the doors opened.

"So..." Bellamy coughed as the got on, and Clarke shoved her large suitcase up with the others, "Where are our seats?"

"You mean compartment." Clarke gave a smirk over her shoulder, and Bellamy's eyes widened and he paused, staring at her. She laughed at his expression, "It's bunk-beds, Blake. Don't worry. Right now it's just chairs. Come on." She motioned.

The compartment was tiny, painfully so. It brought back harsh memories of Bellamy's dorm room experience in college, something he was not looking to relieve ever, as he ducked underneath the door. His legs and Clarke's were squished up against each other, two seats on either end of the small space, and a window.

"Harry Potter lied." He chuckled, "I was expecting spacious leg-room."

"You and me both." Clarke was looking around almost nervously. Not for the first time in the past couple days, he wondered who the second ticket had been for. Maybe her mom? Maybe things at her mother's work had gotten really busy? Yet Clarke seemed glad about her not coming yet, and when she'd offered him this trip that night, the speak of the second ticket owner had been tense. Bellamy stared at her...what an enigma.

"You're looking at me odd." She said, and Bellamy averted his eyes.

As the train lurched forward from the station, Bellamy coughed. "You said something about whisky?"

 _8:00 pm (Friday)_

"I spy...something...tall. It's erm, leafy-,"

Clarke kicked his shin half-playfully, "I swear to God if the answer is tree again, I will kick you harder." She rolled her eyes.

"But Clarke," Bellamy feigned innocence, just to annoy her, "What kind of tree is it?"

Clarke rolled her eyes once again. They'd both decided to save the whisky until later, but now she was sort of regretting it. There was only so much one could 'spy' on a rapidly moving train.

"Let's play something else." Clarke said.

"Okay, how about question game." Bellamy said, raising an eyebrow. Clarke's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"What's that?"

"Exactly what it sounds. I ask you a question, you answer." He said, "For example- who was the other ticket for?"

Clarke sucked in a sharp breath and her eyes narrowed, "Sorry, Clarke Griffin is currently unavailable to answer such contents." She said, deadpanned. Bellamy frowned. Whatever it was, and he was now beginning to be sure it was a bad break-up, she wasn't ready to talk. But he still had other questions, but Clarke cut in.

"My turn, right?" She asked, and he opened to stop her, but she continued, "What is...your favorite ice-cream."

Bellamy gave a sharp bark of laughter.

"Seriously? That's your question?" He leaned back, grinning. She was too adorable sometimes.

"Are they supposed to be deep, soul-searching questions?" Clarke asked back, "Now, answer the question."

"Okay, okay. I don't like ice-cream."

Clarke guffawed, "Seriously, Bellamy."

"I don't. Too cold for me." He said, shrugging. Clarke stared at him in horror.

"I don't know if I can trust a weirdo that doesn't like ice-cream. That's not natural!" She sputtered.

"I'm unusual. My turn- are you a virgin?"

"Bellamy!"

"What? Just because you ask your cute, innocent little questions doesn't mean I'm going to ask the same type." He said, "Unless, you're chicken."

"You're just insufferable." Clarke snapped back, "And no. But if you want to know how many or who, that's locked up too." She said.

"Little Miss Perfect...not so perfect?" Bellamy raised an eyebrow at her. He honestly hadn't been expecting her to answer so freely...or say she wasn't. Not that it was unlikely, totally likely, since she was good-looking, a nice person, and maybe she was some sort of kinky person in the bedroom.

Clarke giggled a bit, "I'm just a perfectionist and like to follow laws, I'm not a nun, Bellamy. I went through college and some adult life like everyone else. I would ask you the same back, but I'm pretty sure I've seen you take a couple girls into your room." She said. Bellamy held back a flinch. He didn't want Clarke to think he was some insensitive womanizer; he was far from it. But he swallowed and answered cheekily, because what could he really say in his defense? Clarke had seen him with multiple women.

"So if I told you I was just watching movies with them and knitting you wouldn't believe me?" He asked.

"Who knits on dates?" Clarke frowned.

"Maybe I do." Bellamy poked her leg, "I make the best scarves."

"I officially believe nothing you've said." Clarke informed him. Bellamy's tone changed, surprising her.

"I actually do know how to knit. My mom was a seamstress and all- she taught me how to sew and knit things when I was younger. Pretty handy when I tear my shirts and all, don't have to pay someone to do it."

Clarke thought about it for a moment, before chuckling.

"What?" He asked, worried she was going to tease him. He didn't tell many people that, mostly because it wasn't 'manly'.

"Someone like me would be perfect for someone like you, hypothetically." She seemed caught up in her thoughts, not at all stating something between them seriously, "I mean, I'm shit at housemaking stuff. Other than being clean and knowing how to heal someone, I can't cook or sew or anything." She said.

"So many imperfections." Bellamy clicked his tongue, "Who would have known you're actually faulty underneath all that perfection?"

Clarke gave him a sad smile, and he felt bad. NOt that he'd messed up, but just because it was so clear something was bugging her, but because she seemed also unwilling to let him help in anyway he could. Their joking question game had gone into deeper territory, Bellamy could sense the shift.

"Why are you moving to California?" He asked softly, and half-expected Clarke to declare this question locked away too.

"Got done with residency last year. My mom wanted me close to her. I wasn't thrilled about New York, but I got a great job offer and decided to try it. I hate it there." She scrunched up nose, "I need fresh air, the sea, the sun...concrete jungle, the say. It's stifling. Besides, I don't really like the cold."

"No one likes the cold. Anyone who says they like the cold is either lying or should be locked in in the nut house." Bellamy added, and was glad to see her smile.

"I guess that's about it then. California seemed like a good place. Got another good offer, it's warm. My mom's not thrilled about me living so far away, but you have to flee the nest at sometime." She said.

"Flee? Sounds..." Bellamy struggled for the right word, "Almost...not right." He frowned, and Clarke shrugged.

"My mom can be a little...overbearing. She means best, but sometimes her 'best' makes choices I wouldn't make. My turn, anyway. What were the plans you cancelled that you were so upset about?" She asked.

"I never cancelled, I just denied it. I was asked to be a chaperone on a trip to Rome, and I chose not to go because Tavia had been so excited about this trip here for weeks. I mean, Rome, Clarke!" Bellamy sighed, his frustrations rolling in again.

"I'm sure you'll get there one day." She said, "Hopefully."

"Teachers don't make great money, you know." He laughed, "Doctors don't understand that." He meant it in no way as a jab at their difference in class and salary, because he was honestly happy where he was, but Clarke seemed upset at his comment.

"One day, I'll buy you a ticket there. To thank you for coming here with me. It's been exciting, right?" She asked sarcastically.

"We've had a great question game, and a thrilling round of I Spy. It's not that bad. Don't think you need to buy me a ticket. I like just getting to know you better." He said honestly.

"A little late, though, me moving and all." Clarke looked down, and he saw a blush creep across her cheeks.

"The weekend is still young, Clarke. We have lots of time a head of us."

 _9:28 pm_

"We're going to be late for our dinner reservations, Bellamy. Put the book down."

Bellamy glanced up, surprised.

"Dinner reservations? On a train?" He winced, "I think the nicest thing I have is a button-down shirt...and it might be a Hawaiian one." He said, then his face frowned, "You should have told me."

"It's not the Titanic, Bellamy. It's a train. No fancy formal attire needed." She said, tapping her foot impatiently at the door.

"Oh." He scratched his head, "Then why do we have 'reservations'. Can't we just eat whenever?" He questioned.

"Well, if you want to try the snack bar, hope they have a dinner menu, I suppose. But I mean, they have to feed the entire train, so obviously switching out the dinners is needed."

Bellamy grunted. "Think it's going to be better than airplane food?"

"I've heard mixed things." Clarke said, strolling ahead, "Well, come on! We don't want to loose our table."

Bellamy rolled his eyes. Obviously, if their names were down, it was unlikely they were going to lose their table. Yet when they finally found the ill-direction dining car at 9:41 (for a dinner 'reservation' at 9:30) they worker looked at them with a mixture of unbounded annoyance.

"You are late." She said, her voice staccato and crisp.

"Trains are a confusing place. One would think that something that's thin and horizontal would be easy but- she walked away." Bellamy had begun to joke, but the worker had spun in the middle with a huff leaving him hanging, "Well then." He sucked in his cheeks, offended.

Clarke patted his arm. "Don't take it too personally. I've heard that most train workers are," She lowered her voice, glancing at family with children not far away, "Bitches."

"Well, I can very well imagine." Bellamy guffawed as they stood awkwardly in the door of the train hall, and his stomach growled looking at the salads and soups patrons were trying to figure out how to eat on a moving vehicle, "I mean, at least flight attendants sometimes get to go to cool places. Other countries. Trains can't really...if you start in the US, you're either going to Alaska- which is cold and dark, Canada- which is too nice for me, or Mexico- where you have a good chance of getting shot."

Clarke laughed but cut off as the worker returned with a cross expression.

"Our tables are filled."

"What?" Clarke frowned, checking her card, "I mean, we have reservations. You can't just give it to someone else!" She objected, and the lady gave her a hard 'don't tempt me' look, but refused to answer.

"We had to put you at the end, here." She said, and led them down to the very end of the cart. While most of the other tables were at least spacious enough to fit a family comfortably, this one was cramped and had a table cloth hastily thrown over it. Bellamy and Clarke exchanged looks.

"Across from each other?" He asked, and she nodded, holding back a blush. Yet that didn't go as planned because they had just gotten situated when another couple came bustling down, also extremely 'late' and was placed by them. This forced Bellamy to have to go back to Clarke's side, his legs pressed against hers, shoulder to shoulder. At first, he was miffed, but the couple seated next to them were so gregarious and adorable it was hard to stay mad.

"These workers get so flustered!" The woman laughed, a wise old age and her husband chuckled in agreement, taking his glasses off to clean them. They were the sort of springy elderly couple that people envied; they were off to see the world, had an easy going personally, and still bantered with each other like they were first married in such a playful way.

"We couldn't find the compartment." Clarke said when questioned why they got stuck at the 'reject table' as their new friend called it. She and Clarke seemed to hit it off quite quickly, while the man was a bit more withdrawn, quiet.

"Oh, I suppose that's better than us. We were down at the bar and lost track of time." She waved her hand.

"Is there anything good down there?" Bellamy asked.

"Not really, but it passes the time." She winked. She was also unassuming. Bellamy expected the question of his and Clarke's relationship to occur at least once, but it never cropped up, and she never seemed curious to poke into their lives. He was grateful about that.

They laughed at the worker's puckered faces when they ordered food, and soon she was sharing her stories of other worse train rides she'd had, keeping them entertained and far from the fact their body heat was close and personal at the moment.

Dinner passed uneventfully, for as dramatic as their entrance had been. With desert, when Clarke asked for some red wine to complement her choice in sweets. This newer worker, younger but seemingly still as cranky, had taken to looking solely at Bellamy, and looked at her irritably when she asked.

"Are you 21?" She questioned flatly.

"Yes, 26 actually." Clarke sighed, "I have a young face, so they say." She laughed a bit, but the worker's face was stony.

"Are you sure?"

"Obviously I know how old I am." Clarke scowled, handing her ID over, which the worker held away like it was disgusting.

"Looks like a fake." The person said, unconvinced. Clarke was about to launch into a fully-heated argument with her when Bellamy grabbed it back.

"Well, I'll take the bottle of what she wanted too, actually." He said, a hand holding her steady. She locked her jaw in frustration, especially when the the woman nodded.

"Aren't you going to ask him if he's 21?" Clarke asked with a twinge of bitterness.

"Oh, no. He looks old enough." She said, winking, and Clarke resisted the urge to gag. The older couple also agreed to share the bottle, and Clarke just about had it when the woman only brought out three glasses.

"Well, we can share." Bellamy shrugged, unconcerned, "Unless you have cooties."

"Grow up, this isn't third grade." Clarke said, taking a long sip.

"That's exactly what someone with cooties would say." Bellamy teased. Sharing was a bit inconvenient, but altogether not as bad as she thought. Things would have been much better if the worker had stopped saying covertly sexual things to Bellamy and treating him like some sort of god. Clarke was so disgusted, and angry for the strangest reason, that she left to go to the bathroom half-way through one of these times.

When she returned, she sat on the end, especially so the lady had to work harder to oogle him. She felt it as a small triumph when she came back with their desserts and her eyes hardened at the change of seats.

This was perhaps, Clarke would look back, a bad choice for later consequences. The train jostled them about, and most times their glasses were heavy enough to stay put, but often moved inches away from where you set it. The old man's cup was right near Clarke, almost at the edge, just almost out of his grasp.

"Oh, I'll get it." Clarke said at the same time he reached for it, and the train went over a bump, causing him to jerk it toward her in a way she hadn't expected. The rouge color spilled from the glass like a shower, falling directly into her lap and then bouncing to the ground with a shattering sound.

There was a collective silence, before Bellamy gave a low whistle.

"Bad day to wear white." He said weakly, and Clarke just stared at her soiled clothes, glaring at him with a lidded frown.

"What did you do?" The fury of the worker was unmatched, and she was directing at at Clarke.

"I didn't do anything!" Clarke shot back, "It fell."

"Oh, really? I saw you reach for it. I don't even think you should be having wine." The lady sneered, "You're going to clean this up."

"The hell I'm not!" Clarke stood, "I didn't purposely knock a red drink onto my white dress, you know!"

"It was my mistake, actually." The man spoke up, the loudest he'd been all dinner, "Not her fault at all." The lady looked irked that Clarke was removed, but still frowned.

"Hardly my mess to clean." She muttered, stalking away.

"Bitch!" Clarke hissed after her.

"I'm going to find some towels." The old man stood, "I'm sorry, Clarke."

"It really wasn't even your fault. Total accident." Clarke calmed, sighing as she stood to let some of it drip out.

"I'll get towels too." Bellamy agreed, and he and the man went on a wild adventure to find even some wash rags. In the end, he managed to woo yet another worker into giving him a roll of brown paper towel, but he didn't like doing it. He remembered how upset Clarke had seemed about the other time, and thought maybe this should be kept a secret.

When he returned, Clarke seemed to be in a much better mood, her head in the middle of the table, talking quietly with the woman in hushed voices. She was slipped something, although Bellamy couldn't quite tell what it was. When he asked, Clarke waved her hand to dismiss it and told him it was her contact information for later. He didn't understand immediate girl connections, and didn't question.

All four of them helped to clean up the broken glass and wine on the ground, for it was no one's fault, and Bellamy took the plate with Clarke's dessert (he didn't care if he could or not, he was right pissed) back to their room. Clarke went into the communal bathroom area to wash off, asking Bellamy to grab her pajamas out of her suitcase-it was nearly bed-time anyway.

It took a bit; she'd packed a lot even in her small bag, and when he returned, he expected to find the door closed and leave it there, but turned the corner to see Clarke letting the water run over her shirt, standing in just her bra and a pair of leggings.

"Woah!" He turned around, "Clarke!"

"Everyone else who uses this is at dinner." Clarke said, "Besides, it's just a bra." She said very matter-o-factly.

"Just a...Christ, Clarke." Bellamy felt his whole face redden, "Aren't you even a little embarrassed? I mean, there's just no layer after that between me and breasts and I'm rambling..."

When she didn't answer, he turned to see a weird mixed emotion filter across her face. It was angry, it was dejected, but it was wholly sad and lost.

"Clarke..." He whispered, feeling awful for unknown reasons, "You...I didn't...are you okay?"

"No, not really." Clarke shut off the water, taking her pajamas from him. She mechanically put it on, sighing. She balled her wet clothes into a bag, "I don't know if I can fix this when we get there. I hope, it was one of my favorite dresses."

"I could buy you a new dress." Bellamy offered weakly, following her into their tiny room, which now had two beds. He wasn't sure why he offered, but she seemed so sad that he hated seeing her this way, "Do you want to talk about why you're not okay?"

"No, not really." She answered again, "I'll take top."

"So...go to bed?" He said. She nodded.

"I'm pretty tired, you know. Not much else to do."

"So no whisky tonight?" Bellamy asked, and it took her a long moment to answer as he crawled into the tiny and very cramped bed. But when she did, he could have almost sworn there was a smile underneath her reply.

"Tomorrow, Bellamy. I did promise you that."

 _Saturday, 8:21 AM_

Bellamy didn't believe in 'Soul mates'. He didn't think of things like that, or things leading to a perfect someone. Which was reasonable, he was a guy after all, and guys didn't analyze everything leading up to a certain moment.

But he didn't think coincidences were merely that either. He did have a firm resolution that almost- with well, a few notable exceptions, happened for a reason. It could be a really sucky reason too, like it never had to be anything good. It could be punishing. Whoever came up with the lovey-dovey idea that when things that happened for a reason had to be good things was clearly high or just straight up an idiot. Like wars; those happened for a reason, wether it be causes or whatnot, but it wasn't a good reason. Or maybe it was the aftermath? Jobs, better quality of living, family...who knew. Bellamy sometimes philosophized things, but often he just let them go.

But anyway, as it was, with the jostling train far too early in the morning to be up, he thought off all the things leading him here that just in itself were too weird for words.

His choosing the particular apartment that led him to be Clarke's neighbor, that's when it started. He actually didn't want to live there, not initially. He'd found the absolute perfect place in the whole world. He'd been quite content in his previous apartment, make no mistake, and perhaps he could chalk that up to weirdness too- that in the time making it perfect to find apartments when she was looking as well, his old land-lord had been arrested for something really bizarre and they'd all been evicted when the place had been taken by the state of New York.

He'd looked at twelve apartments buildings, the twelfth being the 'one'. It was just the right mix of loft and city, something that strum a chord in his mind that relayed a sense of sophistication and history. It was even in a converted warehouse or something that made shoes, and pieces of the old building were still scattered throughout the floors. It was a little higher than he'd hoped, but man when you find the place you've found the place.

And he'd been on his way to sign the papers when he got the most frustrating call that under once again the weirdest of circumstances the apartment he'd looked at hand't actually be up for sale, the owners had just left and thought they'd informed someone they'd gone on an extended vacation, and had come back. Was that even legal, Bellamy didn't know, but almost all the other places he'd looked up had been snatched away (any apartment in New York was gone quickly) and he was left with a really obnoxiously high-priced place and commute that had a small inch of history or an utterly modern place right in his price-range and travel time he wanted. If he'd loved the first option left, it would have been a much different story. He wouldn't have been here. But in that moment, because he didn't love it, Bellamy had to make the adult choice.

So he went with the other one, the one he lived in now. He'd actually viewed the very apartment Clarke had previously lived in, but chose the one across the hall because it might be totally lacking in history and any sort of intrigue, but it had a funky little loft for his bed, and that was at least something redeeming whereas Clarke's was all white square walls...so utterly normal.

And a day later, Clarke had moved into to the one across the way from him.

Then came the second odd thing; as they were exchanging names and stories as he helped her move in (he was a gentleman like that) she got a funny expression when he said his name was Bellamy Blake.

"Do you have a sister named Octavia?" She'd asked.

"Yeah?" He frowned, "Do you know her?" He asked in disbelief. She gave a chuckle, holding out her hand.

"Clarke Griffin." She introduced herself. Bellamy's mind raced to remember why that name was familiar and when he did, he let out a loud and deep laugh, which she joined in.

"No freaking way." He shook his head. It wasn't normal that the person who moved in across from you had been your baby sister's freshman room-mate and best friend when they both went to college in Wisconsin, seemingly now half a world away. They might have stayed roommates all through school too, had Octavia not decided that she needed to 'find herself' and leave college after the first year. She seemed happy but...well, Bellamy would have never done that himself and still thought it was a ruddy bad choice to make.

When Bellamy had called his sister that night and told her his new neighbor, she'd practically flipped, and then asked casually, "So she's cute, right, Bell? Hear she likes nerds too. You two might just-,"

"Shut up, O." Bellamy had grumbled back.

He had been wondering if there was ever a right time to ask her to something more formal that the occasional take-out.

And the now, his weekend plan cancelled in line with the time that his work was shut down for a couple days and that Clarke was leaving.

Sometimes, Bellamy wondered if maybe he should re-think his ideals about meant to be situations.

 _11:30 am_

"So...scenic route..." Bellamy questioned, sipping his coffee with a look to her across the brim. Clarke turned, slightly huffing, rolling her eyes.

"I think it looks nice. So...peaceful."

"I see snow. Not exactly something nouvea...we do live in New York." He pointed out. Clarke threw a sock at him.

"I thought you'd be sensitive enough to appreciate it, you know." She said.

"No guy wants to be called sensitive. And I believe I'm here not because I'd appreciate it, but because I was free." Bellamy said, "How many people did you ask before me?"

"A few." Clarke said absently, but Bellamy was pretty sure it was more than just that. He, on one hand, wanted it to only be a few like she claimed, but on the other hand he wouldn't be sure how he'd feel about that. His own feelings toward her were constantly shifting, always between wanting to date her to not being sure if that was necessarily a good idea, or even logical at this point, what with her moving half-way across the country.

"Obviously, everyone else had better things to do." He joked, and Clarke gave a quiet chuckle.

"There were a couple I asked out of desperation that I was pretty glad said 'no'." Clarke smiled a tiny bit, "I mean, since I moved here, I didn't have a ton of friends as it were. I ran out of people to ask pretty quickly."

"Well, what about that tiny brunette girl with braids that was always over like a couple months ago. You guys seemed close." Bellamy tried to recall any other girls that had been seen, but came up with blanks that were over frequently as the one he brought up, "But you guys sort of stopped hanging out."

"We broke up." Clarke said bluntly, "Her name was Lexa."

This caught Bellamy totally off guard. "Woah, you're a lesbian?" He said, feeling like a deep punch in the gut.

"You said yourself I had been dating a guy. I'm bisexual, but I don't like putting labels on things, I suppose." She said, glaring, and Bellamy felt his face redden. Oh, yeah. He had. It was a bit of a relief, him liking her and all, "You got a problem with that?" She demanded after a quiet moment.

"Actually, that's sort of hot, Princess." Bellamy admitted, and another sock was thrown his way. But after a moment, Clarke pulled her feet underneath her.

"My feet are cold. Can I have my socks back?" She questioned, and Bellamy held her two woolly socks up teasingly.

"After you threw them at me so violently?" He said, "Nope. Officially confiscated until I decide you get them back." He said, stuffing them into his pocket, which thinking about it after a second was a bit weird. Clarke just gave him a roll of her eyes and went back to watching the window.

 _3:45 pm_

"Think we're ever going to get moving again? I mean, where the heck are we?" Bellamy asked as they sat on the upper decks to get out of the cramped room. Here they both had a very roomy seat, much more like Harry Potter, but Clarke seemed pre-occupied. Her phone buzzed for the umpteenth time, and Clarke just ignored it, "You ever going to get that?" Bellamy asked with an exasperated sigh.

Clarke just shook her head silently, her chin resting upon her folded arms as she pressed her nose to the window, letting her breath warm the frost upon it. Finally, she received a call, and picked it up, and while Bellamy couldn't hear the words exactly, it sounded as if someone was yelling at her through the phone. After a couple seconds, in which Clarke looked about to cry, she hung up and attempted to shove her phone into her pocket, leaving in a flurry, but the phone lay innocently on the seat across from him.

The train started with a jolt.

Bellamy stared at the phone. He picked up, fully intending to bring it back to her, but found himself morbidly curious. The phone vibrated in his hand again, lighting up the screen with seemingly twenty all caps messages from a number she didn't have in her contacts.

He scrolled, reading each, his shock and anger rising with each one. They were all upset messages, some woman (or man-probably woman) screaming at Clarke all the way from New York, calling her things like 'slut', 'whore', and 'two-sided, man-stealing, home-breaking bitch'.

Bellamy dropped the phone as if he'd been burned. He stared at it, uncomprehending. Nothing made sense. Clarke was LMP (Little Miss Perfect, to shorten it for joking and time saving purposes) but he couldn't imagine her being some sort of home-wrecking.

He dialed his sister.

"Octavia, before you say anything, this is about Clarke." He said before she could give him some sorry and half-assed apology, "I'm still mad at you."

Octavia breathed on the other end, and he could imagine her wincing.

"Okay...what's up?"

"Well...I'm currently on a train with Clarke to California-,"

"What the hell? Good job, bro. How'd you snag that! She asked me, of course, couldn't make it. Is it fun? I'm sure it's fun. Have you two done the deed? Maybe not considering..." She trailed off.

"Considering what?" Bellamy pressured, but Octavia stayed silent. He sighed, "Look. I don't know who the ticket was for, and I haven't asked her more than once, because she didn't want to to talk. But I just saw some messages on her phone- I didn't intend to snoop, mind you- and there's some bat-shit crazy lady calling Clarke all these names. You guys are friends...what did I put myself in the middle of?" He questioned.

"That's really something for Clarke to tell you herself, Bell..." Octavia said softly. Bellamy wrung his hands through his hair in frustration.

"The one time you decide to be mature, really? I mean, she's upset but she doesn't seem to want to tell me. Don't you think since I'm probably in the middle of Kansas or something on a train I should know?"

"Ask her. She might just surprise you. Gotta go, Bell. We'll talk later, okay?" Then the line went dead. Bellamy gave an aggravated sigh, before going back down to their cabin. Clarke was curled up in a ball, the most sad expression he'd ever seen on anyone on her face. She was shivering.

"Want your socks back?" He asked meekly, startling her. She looked up, and shook her head, "You, uh...also left your phone by accident."

Clarke's hands went to her pocket, and realized just suddenly it wasn't there. She took it from him, scowling.

"You read them, didn't you?" She played with the phone between her hands.

"Little hard not to. Called Octavia. Said you needed to explain things yourself. Perhaps this is a good time, you think?"

Clarke seemed to think about it for a long time.

"You're right, but I need some whisky first." She said. After she'd taken a shot (or three) she turned to him. Bellamy had a glass, carefully drinking it, wanting to stay focused.

"I was fucking in love. I should have known you don't just fall in love in a week, but gosh, Fisher was so...real. That's the irony of it, you know? He wasn't."

Bellamy nodded, but he didn't actually know.

"We met at my work. He came in to the ER. We really hit it off. He seemed like a gentleman, was caring, creative, loving of my needs and myself. It was different than anything else. We might have fallen into things quickly. I suppose I'll never quite know if I was a by chance or he'd done this before." She said.

"Done what?"

"Cheat." She said, and a shiver ran down Bellamy's spine.

She went through the whole process of how- on the night she asked him onto the train with her- she'd discovered he had a second Facebook...and a second, more real, life.

"Shit, Clarke..."

"The number? His fiancee...I don't know how she figured it out, maybe someone said something to him, how she found it, but she won't leave me alone and how can I justify what I've done? According to Facebook, they're no longer engaged. I did break a marriage up, Bellamy!" She wiped her eyes, sniffling.

"Bull, you didn't know. You didn't go into to it thinking and realizing you were the other woman. And really, you did this girl a favor. She'll realize it soon enough. Once a cheater, always a cheater." Bellamy said confidently, "And if she calls again and gives you more trouble, you give her to me." He said darkly.

Clarke gave a quirk of a smile. She took another shot. "I can fight my own battles, you know." She said, "I'm strong."

"I have no doubt. Maybe Queen would be more appropriate of a title, but Princess just has that sort of ring to it. Either way is...perhaps you shouldn't always have to do things alone?" He asked softly.

Clarke pulled a face. "You sound like Finn when you say that. Isn't it easy to see why his love sounded so real? Fuck, maybe it's because I was alone an awful long time. Was blind to it all. It sucks."

"Are you going to throw something else at me if I tell you there's other fish in the proverbial sea?"

"No," Clarke said, "But I might take another shot."

 _Sometime after dinner (neither noticed clocks)_

Bellamy was sad to find at dinner that their couple friend was gone, but Clarke seemed not at all surprised. He wondered if she knew something.

Dinner had no surprises tonight, and after admitting her past to Bellamy, Clarke seemed more at ease with herself now, as if a weight had been lifted. They had a couple shots of whisky under their belts at dinner, and after ended up playing a thrilling game of what turned into 'Truth or Truth or drink'.

"Okay, you're turn." Bellamy said after answering a story about his most embarrassing high-school story, "What is something you've always wanted to do, but were too afraid?" He asked.

"There's a couple." Clarke admitted, clutching the bottle, "Erm, sky-diving for one. I think it might be cool, but then I think about falling from the sky, and that sort of terrifies me equally as excites me. Uh...get a tattoo? I just think a classy one would be nice, nothing big, but I mean, it's a big commitment. Lastly, before the whole thing with Finn, I was gathering the courage to ask you out." She said, which she realized swiftly under normal circumstances she may have never admitted. Bellamy looked at her, struck.

"So if that douche never showed up at the ER, we might have gone on a date?" He said, shaking his head, "Of all the..."

"Well, I mean, you'd have to say yes." Clarke was blushing furiously, on top of the drinks making her face reddened. She looked like a tomato.

"I would have. That was my thing I was always afraid to do as well- ask you out."

They shared a look and then a deep and roaring combined laugh. "Look at us now, Mr. Blake!" Clarke chuckled, "Where we are and all. I mean, I probably wouldn't have though to ask you- never mind my crush like eight months ago- if you weren't free and I saw it. So do you believe in fate?" She asked.

"I never normally did, but after all this," He waved his hand, "I might be tempted to change."

Clarke suddenly stood, holding out her hand.

"Where are we going?" He asked as she grabbed his palm and the whisky bottle still full in the other.

"An adventure." She winked, and Bellamy followed her, dumbfounded.

They arrived at a nicer looking door to compartments than their own; much more room in between each door, and more space he realized.

"Clarke, what are you..." He broke off as Clarke fished out a key-card from her pocket and swiped it against against the lock. The button turned green, and Clarke pushed the door open to a spacious room...with a full sized bed in it, not with the scratchy sheets they'd slept with last night.

"Woah..." Bellamy turned in a circle to take in the decadence, "How did you...where...what?" He fumbled. Clarke closed the door, turned on the lights, and sat on the edge of the bed.

"When you and the the man were gone, the woman and I began to discuss the idea of spontaneous choices. She confided in me that hers was that she and her husband had booked this room all the way to California, where they were taking a vacation, but had decided to get off at the stop to visit their new grandchild born a couple weeks ago instead. They were going to see him on the way back, but it was too temping. She didn't want the room to go to waste, or for them to book it for another when she wasn't going to get her money back so she sorta...gave me the extra key. I don't even know if the conductors know she's gone, or else this might not have worked."

"Huh?" Bellamy's mind was racing, trying to process everything she'd just said, "Were you going to tell me...ever?"

"I don't know. I felt bad about it at first, using it and all but..." She shrugged, "I thought about what she said. About being spontaneous and doing things that scare you or that you hadn't planned on happening. It sort of fit into what we were talking about."

"And why did she give you that?" Bellamy wheezed, "Did she know we aren't..."

"Oh, yes. But maybe she saw something else coming." Clarke set the key and the bottle down.

"What?" Bellamy frowned, watching her carefully. She stood, crossing over to him in a couple swift steps.

"This." She said before she pulled him down for a deep and longing kiss. He felt himself falling into it at first, like a powerful addiction that was going to capture him from the first taste. But in a spark of clarity, he backed up, breathless.

"Clarke, we've both had a bit to drink. And you just broke up and I don't know-," He began hesitantly, but Clarke gave him a little smile.

"I'm sober enough to know I want this, that I was hoping I might have the courage, and the whiskey gave me that. Ignoring Finn, he's done and gone and all. I want to think like he never happened. But I'm moving to California and if I didn't at least try to take this chance now, when it's so easily placed in front of me, I'd regret it forever." She said all in one rush, "If you don't want to, I won't be offended, you know." She added.

"Don't want to?" Bellamy echoed, because it was such a ridiculous idea that he wouldn't want to. He really, really wanted to.

"You're not a rebound, I promise." She said, "Without Finn, who knows, maybe it would have been you following me out here." She said, an idea that struck him so deeply, so painfully, it was overwhelming, "Well?"

"Ah, fuck it..." He whispered, leaning back into to kiss her again.

"I think the phrase you're looking for is 'fuck me'." She teased, causing Bellamy's whole body, including the most important appendage, to go stiff with a wave of attraction toward her and that dirty mouth of hers he didn't really know she had until now.

Their clothes were shed quickly, and without much time in between, they fell into the much more comfortable bed.

 _Sunday, 9:00 AM_

Clarke rolled over, waking and half-expecting a moment of panic as her body hit the net keeping her from falling over the side of the tiny bed, but was more than a little surprised when she first of all did not fall, and secondly connected with a warm something next to her.

Eyes widening slightly, she looked at Bellamy snoozing peacefully next to her. He, in his sleep, rolled over and pulled Clarke closer to him in his sleep. There was a oh-so familar flutter in the deepest caverns of her chest, making her intake a breath sharply. She was also aware of her own nakedness, and his as well.

Her breath woke Bellamy, who blinked awake. He didn't roll away, but his eyebrows did crease in confusion.

"Did we...last night? Was it good?" He asked, and Clarke felt a twinge of sadness at his question. She swallowed, trying to laugh it off.

"I thought so. Didn't know you were that drunk. Pretty sure I had more shots." She said, her throat going dry. Immediately, his eyes widened.

"No, not like that. I just, well I thought I was dreaming or something it was so good. I mean the lack of clothes does help explain some, but it was a bit surreal and all. That was a really stupid thing, I didn't mean it." He said hurriedly, and Clarke let out a sigh of relief.

"Good." She said, relaxing backwards, "I really enjoyed it." He nodded.

"Me too."

There was a silence, and Clarke gave him a sharp look, "We're not going to make this awkward, are we?" She questioned, tilting her head, "Because I have no intention of doing that."

"Nope." Bellamy agreed, starting to get out, then shivering, "My god, can we stay here? It's freezing."

"Well, I think we missed breakfast, or we will by the time we sort ourselves. We should probably move our bags into here if we indent to take over the space so graciously given to us." Clarke pointed out.

Bellamy rolled onto his side, pulling Clarke to his chest, "Later. Cold. Tired. Sleep. Maybe something else." He said. Clarke felt a girly giggle erupt from her chest, and let herself sink back into his embrace.

"It's sort of...exciting, isn't it? That we might be found out we're not meant to be here at any time? I've never done anything like this!"

"I would be surprised, honestly." Bellamy said without opening his eyes, "But now I know that it turns you on..."

"Honestly." Clarke slapped his arm playfully, "Is that all guys think about?"

"Yeah, pretty much." He shrugged, "A little bit more after last night." He said, opening one eye and smiling. His smile was so genuine and Clarke realized Finn had felt so fake in comparison to this, whatever it was, even if she could only have if for a couple more days. She decided she wasn't going to waste a moment of it at all, then.

 _1:20 pm_

Bellamy decided to be the gentleman; he went out and gathered their bags pillows and Clarke's purse and brought it back to the room. He also went and got some break-feast like items, even though by the time he returned it was far past that, and found Clarke in the shower. He was tempted to step in to join her, but they were still a bit new to whatever this was.

He wasn't going to try to label it. It wasn't a one-night stand, not by a long-shot. He had already made sure it wasn't just a one time thing, he thought with a smirk. But it was deeper than that...these were two people who had crushed on each other secretly for months, letting it fester and build until it burned like fire when they touched. But it was also too bittersweet...Clarke would arrive in her new home tomorrow, and Bellamy would be getting on a plane feeling more alone than ever. He was more than slightly tempted to try to make things official, but would Clarke want a long distance relationship? She was literally across the country, and neither of them had any plans to leave where they would end up. Clarke surely didn't want to move back to a place she was no fleeing so fast, and Bellamy had quite the good job where he was, was well-respected.

But what was more worth it? But how could he even tell? It had only been 12 hours, maybe more, and a lot of it was spent sleeping.

Clarke's phone buzzed from the charger, but by the time Bellamy got there, it was done. It was that damn woman again, the ex-fiancee of Finn or whatever. Looking into her call history, he saw the woman had tried to call not just three times or something slightly reasonable, but eight.

Even as he was staring, as it always seemed to happen, the phone buzzed with the caller in his hand. Looking to the bathroom door and hearing the water still running, Bellamy made a quick and easy choice.

"Hello?" He answered, and there was a confused pause.

"Who the heck are you? Is this the phone of Clarke Griffin?" The woman asked. Bellamy could just tell her 'wrong number' or something, and that would be the end of it, but Bellamy was upset on Clarke's behalf beyond logic right now.

"Yeah, it is. And let me just say something, if you think that Clarke has some how done you a dis-service, I think you need to check again. You're boyfriend is a lying cheater, and seriously, you should be thanking her." Okay, so thanking the woman that was having an affair with your beau was a little extreme, but Bellamy wasn't thinking about that.

"Who are you? Another one of her little boy-toys. Do you have another girlfriend too, another life she's ruining?"

"Hardly any of your business, Ms..." Bellamy looked on Facebook to see the name of the ex Finn had broken up with and almost face-palmed himself, "Raven Reyes."

There was a pause on the other end, "Bellamy Blake? Aren't you supposed to be in Rome, not with that little blonde bitch?"

"Hey, look Raven. Clarke didn't know. She feels awful. Otherwise she would have replied, but she's blaming herself for everything. But I'm not going to let it stand. Seriously, Raven, you're smarter than this. Let it fucking go." He said.

There was grumbling on the other end of the phone, "Promise me you won't bug her again, you hear?" He demanded.

"Whatever Blake." Raven said, and hung up.

Bellamy realized the shower had stopped, and Clarke was standing in the doorway.

"You know Finn's ex?" She asked, eyes furrowing, "Did you two...?"

Bellamy gave a long exalted sigh. "Like five years ago. During apparently a short break from her long time boyfriend, Finn, I guess. We were both pretty drunk, one time thing. She's not really compatible with me. Funnier, she's my mechanic. She comes into the school to teach a mechanical engineering class every other month."

"Everyone knows everyone." Clarke rolled her eyes, "Geeze." She paused, "What's she like?"

"Fire. She gets all flamed up and bothered easily, and will cut you down, but it usually dies out pretty quickly. She's literally the smartest person I know, worked for NASA for a bit if that tells you anything. She's also pretty nice once you get to know her. You two might get along, strong personalities and all." He admitted after a thought.

"Great. She's a really nice person and I've personally ruined her life." Clarke hid her face in her hands.

"Look, Finn seems like a shady guy anyway. At least everything I ever heard from her. Something about the way she would talk about him didn't rub me right. I don't think those two were good for a long time. They were just dating so long...it was expected. Their marriage would have ended one way or another. Trust me, I'm not just saying it to make you feel better."

Clarke shrugged, "Suppose not. Octavia told me at the worst of times, you're pretty blunt."

"Exactly. I would have told you if you ruined a healthy, great relationship but you ended a shitty one. Pat yourself on the back. Now, please eat some of this delicious food I had to go scavenging for, otherwise it will be cold and my efforts will be lost."

Within two hours, one final message from Raven came into Clarke's phone.

 _3:30 pm (Text)_

 **Message sent from Raven to Clarke:** I'm sorry. I might have overreacted. Perhaps Bell was right; this ending was for the best. Good luck wherever you're going.

Clarke didn't reply back, but she did smile a bit after reading it.

"Maybe, in a different time and place, we would have gotten along." She agreed after reading it.

"You still could." Bellamy pointed out, "Bond over your mutual hated of Finn."

"Is it awful I don't hate him, though? After all he did, all his fake stories and promises? Does that make me a bad person?"

"I think..." Bellamy paused, looking at her and frowning, "It just means you're hurt still. There's going to be a lot to process. You thought you loved him."

"Sometimes I think you're far smarter than you let on." Clarke said, her head falling into his lap.

 _10:59 pm_

"Clarke?" Bellamy asked into the darkness, half-hoping she'd be asleep. Instead, she gave a soft groan of answer, rolling over, "What happens when we reach California."

"I don't want to think about that." She said, resting her chin on his chest. Their day had been filled with more sex, a bit more whisky, room-service, talking, and a couple two-person card games.

"It sucks, you know? Do you think you'd be moving if we had dated before, and were still now?"

"Can't say." Clarke frowned, "But part of my moving was because Finn seemed not committed...even though all he said hinted he was. I wanted to make him committed. I was disillusioned by romanticized thoughts."

Bellamy wanted to say he'd commit to her, he already had for a long time, he realized, waiting for her to ask him out or him to do the same. But it was too soon and too late.

"What about long-,"

"Bellamy..." Clarke gave a pained sigh, "I want to say yes. But what if this is too new? I mean, we've said a lot and done a lot but it's not official and we could, but what if it doesn't work? You're in New York and I'm in Cali. There isn't any end plan, not you moving and not me. We're stuck in a limbo of things sucking."

"That's one way to put it." Bellamy couldn't help but chuckle. He looked into her blue eyes, and closed his own.

"If things were different, so many ifs, but I could have really fallen for you instead. And things would have been so terribly different."

"I know." Bellamy whispered into the darkness, "I know."

 _Monday, Noon_

Bellamy helped Clarke get all her luggage onto the platform. They giggled to themselves as they left their hide-away, and Clarke texted a quick thank-you to them.

"They can text?" Bellamy scoffed, "I want them as my grandparents!"

"It was fun, you know. I totally thought we were going to be caught the whole time!" Clarke exhaled, breathing in the air of a new place, "Let's get a taxi. You're flight isn't for later tonight." She said. Bellamy felt his stomach twist horribly.

"Sure," He agreed thickly, and was taken to Clarke's new apartment. It seemed awful, dropping her off here, when she belonged across from him or even in his apartment in his bed. It was so white, sterile, unlivable and cold. It didn't feel like home. He saw the expression that mirrored his in Clarke's eyes, but she put on a brave face. Once her things were set, she turned.

"So...you're in LA? Wanna do some touristy things until you leave?" She asked.

"Well, when in Rome..." He chuckled.

"Or, when you're not in Rome!" Clarke reminded him, poking him, "Still wish you were there, though, right?"

"Not anymore. I mean, it would be cool, but chaperoning a bunch of teenagers sounds like living hell the more I think about it." He said, shrugging, "So much competition and under-age passion." He shuddered, "We hate having to check bleachers during football games."

"You're kidding." Clarke laughed behind her hand, "Ew!"

"Not even!" Bellamy held up his hand, "I swear. I mean, they've gotten good at it too. I guess it's not like the little town I grew up in where people just used backseats of cars...gotta get creative."

They went all around downtown Hollywood, taking pictures next to their favorite stars in the cement, and taking touristy pictures in front of the cinema. The only awkward time was when one lady that took their photo told them they made an adorable couple.

"Uh...thanks." Clarke said, and quickly changed the subject.

By the end of the day, the found themselves in the park near the Hollywood sign. Bellamy was quite put-out to discover it was now illegal to go up right by the sign, but as Clarke pointed out, when it was so large, even sitting under it was like being right there. She took out the remanning quarter of the whisky from the two bottles, and they sat, passing it between each other. They were very aware of the minutes ticking down to Bellamy's departure.

"We'll talk, of course." Clarke began to ramble, "After all this, we won't just not do anything ever again. And I mean if I'm ever back in NYC, I'll see you and you're free to stay with me if you're ever here again..."

Bellamy, on the other hand, was curling in on himself. "Yeah," He agreed hazily, "Course." He didn't really feel it in his bones though. It felt final to him.

Soon, they had to face reality and get up. They took the same Taxi; just dropped Bellamy off first. She got out to hug him goodbye, and he saw a tear in her eye. He pulled her face to his, kissing her hard, trying to convey everything he hadn't said yet, everything he wanted to see.

"May we meet again." He whispered against her shaking body.

"May we meet again," She repeated, almost fazed, the words so meaningful and deep and yet so simple it shook her.

She drove back to her apartment and started unpacking the little she had. She called her new job, talked to other neighbors, went shopping. Even thought being in California felt so right, Bellamy being gone felt so wrong. She just wondered which was easier to live without right now?

 _One Week Later_

"Yo, Blake!"

Raven waved Bellamy over to where she sat in the teacher's lounge, and he remembered it was one of her teaching days. He wasn't sure how to act around her, knowing what he knew now, and even seeing her made him hurt terribly. He missed Clarke. He missed her so much.

"Hi Raven..." He said, sitting into the seat, "So, uh...how are you holding up?"

"Well, of course I was pissed for a long time. I'm upset I took it out on Clarke...you were right. She seemingly didn't know, and I actually called her. She's an okay girl."

"Like after you apologized?" Bellamy said, surprised.

"Well, she called me. Wanted to make amends, do something, I don't know." Raven shrugged. Bellamy frowned. Even though he and Clarke had been in constant contact since he left, she hadn't said anything about contacting Raven.

"Oh. That's good...I think." He said, biting into his sandwich.

"You seem a bit off, Blake." Raven looked at him, "Are you okay?"

"WHy wouldn't I be?" He asked, giving her a hard look. Raven shrugged, stabbing her salad.

"Oh, I don't know. I mean, other than the fact that it's obvious your in love with Clarke and she's now all the way across the country." Raven said. Bellamy gave a huff.

"I'm not in love with her. I knew her for a year, but we only connected for a weekend."

"Connected, funny, you know." She winked, nudging him, "But seriously, Blake. It's so obvious. Written all over your pretty face. Don't think she knows, does she?"

"How could I, even if I theoretically did. She fell for Finn quick, I think anything fast would scare her." He said, and felt a little bad for saying Finn's name, for Raven gave an almost unnoticeable flinch.

"Yeah." Her voice was rough, "Finn as a way of doing that." She agreed, "And it's not theoretical. You do."

"Well," Bellamy snapped irritably, "There's nothing I can do. She's in California and I'm here!"

"Oh, poor, confused little teacher boy. You'll figure it out soon enough." She downed her soda, licking her lips, "Gotta get back to the shop. Some of the seniors are coming in for extra classes; there's some really promising students!"

She left Bellamy alone with his thoughts, even more confused than before. Maybe Raven's deduction of him was completely correct? He didn't want to think about that.

 _Four Months Later_

Time sped up, except when he thought about Clarke. They were still quite conversational over text and Facebook, and seemingly she was still single, but he was still here. In the past, there were a couple notable things that occurred in direct correlation to the train ride and breaking up with Finn.

First, Octavia arrived unexpectedly to make amends and to introduce Bellamy to her new- urg- fiancee. He really wanted to dislike Lincoln, but the stoic man was surprisingly not the worst person for his sister to get hitched to. Bellamy, by the end of the weekend, had to give his consent to their marriage, since their father had never been around and he knew his approval secretly meant the world to Octavia.

When she did arrive, after the whole surprise of the ring on her finger, she insisted on dragging Bellamy all the way to Long Island to track down Finn- and she did, although he still wasn't quite sure how, and to deliver a hard left swing to Finn's face. After, when he was grabbing his eye and cussing at her, she smugly sent a picture of it to Clarke. Bellamy neither agreed nor disagreed with what she'd done, but he did feel a deep sense of justice about it.

Second was he'd run into people that somehow knew Clarke, and it was becoming much more constant, as if a deep thorn in his side far too often. He met Jasper, a man who had been the first patient that she'd ever saved at work. He met Monty, who had been in jail for weed for a bit and Clarke had apparently helped him out and got him a job working with computers at the hospital. He ran into a guy named Murphy who had asked her out once and gotten a kick to the balls when he wouldn't leave her alone. He even met her best frined since birth, Wells, and they'd had a long and deep discussion about her in a supermarket of all places.

And it wasn't like he was bringing Clarke up in every conversation either, it always came up almost totally naturally, as if the world was pushing it against him, taunting him.

By far the weirdest was when he was out near Jersey and sliced his hand open deeply and had to go to a small hospital to get some stitches and was greeted by the freaking head of Doctors herself, none other than Clarke's own mother. She knew him too, apparently, even odder, and said in the past months Clarke had told her 'all about him'. He hoped it was good things.

But time kept moving, as time does naturally. And soon, he found Raven was right. He did know what he had to do.

Just as his school was finishing up for the year, on a Friday night, there was a knock at the door.

"Miller, you ass, you're early! I told you I wasn't free until after six!" He yelled, grumbling as he picked himself up. He was quite shocked to find none other than Clarke standing, hand about to be raised to knock again.

"Princess?" He said, stumbling over his words, "What are you...how...?" He always found himself at a loss for words around her. But it didn't matter. He grabbed her, hugging her hard, angry he let her go once before.

"I erm, forgot something in New York." She said, blushing ferociously.

"Oh, really?" He said, confused. What could possibly be so important that she couldn't just get it in California.

"Yeah. You." She said, blinking up at him. Bellamy, who had leaned back and placed his hand on the threshold, felt it slip as he almost fell forward.

"What?"

Clarke giggled. "You heard me. I just...after that weekend, I really liked you. And I tried to ignore it, you know. But then Raven told me how sad you were without me, and how it was so clear that you liked me-,"

"Goddamit, Raven." He grumbled.

"No, it was a good thing. It pushed me to realize that I think we can make it work, whatever we need to do."

"You came all the way to New York to tell me that?" He laughed, inviting her in.

"Yeah." She bit her lip, "Spontaneous courage, right? And I missed you...like a lot."

"YOu have no idea." Bellamy ran his fingers through his hair, "But well, I actually have a phone interview I"m waiting for." He said.

"Oh?" Clarke tilted her head, "I thought you were in a good place in your job. You didn't get fired, did you?" She gasped.

"No! No..." He shook his head, "Actually," He said, giving a wry smile, "I happened to be looking online and a school in the LA area happens to be looking for a history teacher." He said, a wide grin splitting across his face.

Clarke let out a very un-Clarkish squee and launched herself at him, kissing him and knocking him backwards onto his couch.

"Bellamy!" She breathed, kissing him everywhere, "Oh, Bell..." She sniffed. The phone rang and Bellamy shot up, pushing Clarke off him, holding back laughter. He answered his phone.

"Hello? Yes, this is he." He said, sobering as he answered, sending a serious look at Clarke, mouthing 'this is it'. Clarke gave him a thumbs up and excused herself to his bedroom to give him privacy.

A little bit later, he came up, grinning.

"You got the job, I assume?" She said, nudging him.

"Yep," Bellamy said, flopping back, "I can't believe it, you know."

"Yeah," Clarke said, and she fished something from her bag, "Did you tell Octavia?"

"No, why?" he frowned, sitting up, and she handed him a thick envelope from her bag. He saw it was her 'save the date' wedding papers.

"Hey, I'm her brother and I didn't get one. Not fair." He grumbled. Clarke just laughed, turning the envelope around to the information on the front.

Listed together was Bellamy with Clarke's name...at her apartment in California. He just shook his head.

"Raven seemed to know, she knew...did everyone basically know I'd be moving there before I even did?" He questioned jokingly.

"Well, I may or may have not already gotten you a really nice bookcase to put your precious books on, so maybe..." She said, twirling her hair, "But mine was more hopeful wishing."

"So does this mean we're dating, Princess?" He asked.

"Ask me nicely." She said, shooting him a puppy-dog look.

"Clarke, would you pretty please, with sugar on top, be my girlfriend?" He asked half-sarcastically.

Clarke hit his arm, "So not sincere, but since I've been waiting to hear it, I guess I'll settle." She said theatrically.

"So it's official, a story to tell our grandchildren." He teased.

"Oh, nope, not official yet." Clarke said, grabbing her phone from the duvet, and typing something it, "Now it is." She showed the phone to Bellamy and he grinned.

"Facebook official, of course."

 **Clarke Griffin** is now in a relationship with **Bellamy Blake**

 _June 3rd, 2015 at 5:45 pm._

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 ** _If you liked it, please take the time to leave a review. One review that takes less than thirty seconds to write makes an author happy for the whole day! Keep that in mind :)_**

 ** _Also, I would like to say when I was pretty young (like eight grade) my family went on a train to DC and I had someone spill wine all over my white shirt like Clarke and the worker was that bitchy to me. She was going to make me clean it up because since I was a child I 'clearly' did it on purpose or something. Not only that, but the tables only fit four and we were in a family of five (and I was the eldest child) so they put me across the way from my family with a different family of three. Talk about awkward for a little 13 year old! Bellamy and Clarke eventually had a much better trip than I did, of course ;) It was where I read the Harry Potter books for the first time, though, thus the references in the title and such._**


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